


Tallying Time

by Gayani



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Season 8, debster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gayani/pseuds/Gayani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time takes on new meaning when Dexter reaches an impasse. Spoilers through the series finale. Spin off of Counting the Days. Also posted on Fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tallying Time

**Author's Note:**

> After watching that finale you know I needed to work through some stuff. I actually was strangely satisfied with most of it, given the setup. Of course, I would have been happier with a different setup of season 8 from about the fifth episode in!
> 
> Not quite a sequel to Counting the Days as it sticks with canon through the finale, so let's call it a spin off :) . Thanks for the wonderful reviews on the last one-I really hope you'll enjoy this as well and would love your thoughts!

One day, 5 hours, 24 minutes. Dexter's head is quiet. The tempest that raged over Miami has passed as well. He takes one last deep breath of the Miami humidity and boards the bus. It is time to leave this life behind. It is time to pay for his sins.

The ride out of the storm was brutal. Several times he was sure he would join Deb in the ocean, sure his plan would fail him. But he had fought through. When he had watched Deb sink into the murky darkness he had very nearly joined her. He had wanted nothing more than to pull the knife out of the tackle box, slit his throat and fall overboard. But he knew he didn't deserve to go so easily, so quietly into the oblivion.

Instead, he had steeled himself. Pushed the Slice of Life out into that foreboding storm and taken his life raft back to shore.

Starting over in a new a place, with a new identity, would not be a challenge. Deb's death had made everything clear. And it was this clarity with which he would move forward.

* * *

10 days, 17 hours, 13 minutes. Dexter has found his way to Oregon. He's not sure how he ended up there. His first bus had stopped in Alabama. He had asked for the next departure, heading anywhere but Florida.

He did it again and again, until the humidity ebbed, until the heat diminished, until the sun stopped scorching his skin. When he got off the bus in Oregon and didn't see anything familiar, he decided to stop.

* * *

21 days, 3 hours, 37 minutes. Dexter lies awake, stares at the ceiling of his run down little house. If you could call it that. His head is still quiet, but there are images. The one and only Thanksgiving he spent with the whole family. The one before Rita died, before he lost Astor and Cody, before all hell broke loose for Deb. He remembers it as if it was yesterday, the looks on each of their faces, the way their presence brought this feeling of comfort and satisfaction which he can only now recognize.

* * *

2 months, 8 days, 9 hours. Deb makes her first appearance. Dexter is alarmed, never expected to see her so clearly, standing there in his new home.

The sight of her face brings him out of his chair so fast that it screeches and tumbles over. And just like that, as if the sound had startled her like a frightened deer, she was gone.

Dexter stands absolutely still and waits. Seconds turns into minutes. He stares at the spot where she stood and begs for her to return. The effort is futile.

* * *

7 months, 15 days, 2 hours. Dexter's head is still quiet. But there is this feeling, something niggling in the back of his brain. It's tugging at him differently than the guilt.

He finds himself looking for her. Turning around suddenly to see if she is behind him. Holding his breath at the slightest sound.

In the dead of night he will awaken with a gasp, his whole body coming alert and defensive, a prey knowing its end is near. But just as suddenly the feeling will be gone and he is left wondering what it was that chased him.

* * *

1 year, 4 months, 7 days. The dreams are the worst. The dreams where Deb is happy, giving him that broad, trusting grin. Looking at him like he is her whole world. He wakes up crying from those dreams. Though the dreams of Harrison are no easier to handle, he thinks he at least managed to spare his son before it was too late. Before he destroyed his precious boy like he did his sister.

* * *

3 years, 9 months, 24 days. There is no rhyme or reason when Deb finally shows her face again. This time she startles him.

He is staring out the window, as he does every night. And suddenly her face is there, next to his in the reflection. He starts, but manages to maintain his composure. He doesn't want to scare her off again.

He reaches out slowly, tries to find her hand. But though her image stays there in sight, he can't find her flesh. Giving up he turns slowly, finds her sitting directly across from him at his tiny table. Deb's gaze watches still, through the window, into the darkness of the night. She is here with him, but not at all.

He stares at her for what could be hours. She doesn't look the same as the last time she showed up, dressed in that damn hospital gown, pale. Instead she looks 25 again; the insecure rookie who thought her brother hung the moon.

He watches her until she starts to fade, dissipates into thin air.

* * *

6 years, 10 months, 2 days. It's Harrison's twelfth birthday. Dexter goes to his regular diner, gets a slice of blueberry pie and pulls a candle out of his pocket.

He stares at the small flame, thinks about his son. He wonders where he and Hannah are, hopes she loves him the way she promised. He makes a wish that his son will have a happy life that he will never know the pain that Dexter has inflicted on all the others.

He blows out the candle, eats the slice of pie in silence.

The young, new waitress has been giving him the eye and she stops by his booth to ask if it's his birthday. When Dexter meets her gaze a coldness sweeps through her that she has never experienced. She knows now why the other waitresses have avoided him, why they warned her away from him. There is something missing in this man, maybe even his soul.

* * *

10 years to the day. The day that he killed his sister.

Debra wakes him up gently that morning. But seeing her face for the first time in more than six years feels like a sharp knife to his gut.

She sits at the end of his twin bed and stares at him. There is no accusation, just a quiet sadness. The guilt doubles over him until he thinks his heart will actually stop.

She's wearing the police jacket and track pants, the haunted look in her eyes, from the night when Brian came after her. It was the first time Dexter knew what he had done to his sister. It was the first clue to his innocent sister's dark and twisted fate.

He waits for her to say something, anything. He just wants her voice, her emotions, her presence once more. But just like that voice in his head, she is silent.

She spends the whole day with him, watches him get ready for work, sits in the cabin as he drives his rig. She even sits with him at the diner while he eats his evening meal.

Despite the pain he feels at every glance in her direction, he watches her as much as he can. Her expression never changes, but her eyes are locked on his whenever he seeks them out.

That night she perches at the foot of his bed again. But he can't close his eyes, afraid she will disappear once more. When sleep finally takes him, he doesn't dream. In the morning she is gone.

* * *

18 years, 10 months. The dreams never seem to stop. Sometimes they're happy, sometimes nostalgic. Harrison will be 4 years old, or maybe a few months, or maybe a teenager. Rita, Astor and Cody will visit. Deb is always there.

He wakes with a sinking feeling. The feeling of going back to reality when he knows his dreams are better.

With alarming frequency he dreams of Deb naked. Deb in his arms. Deb's legs around his hips. Deb's mouth on his. He wakes up sweating, hard and frustrated.

Those dreams have persisted since he left Miami. But it's taken years and years to sift through them, to understand what they mean. He wonders why it took him so long to comprehend.

* * *

25 years, 5 months. Dexter's voice is gruff from lack of use. He frightens most people he meets, so no one really has an urge to engage. Most people can't quite identify what bothers them about him. But there is a look in his eyes that is unsettling and they keep their distance.

Deb's infrequent appearances are all he has to look forward to, and they leave him feeling gutted and remorseful. He is glad for the reminder, the pain it causes him. He welcomes the punishment which always seems inadequate.

She showed up last week, sixth time in 25 years. It was her birthday, or would have been. She was 14 year old Deb, his foul mouthed little sister. But as always she was haunted, sad, listless. A lifeless, two dimensional version of the sister he knew and loved. The version of his sister that he created, so different than the original he adored.

It didn't matter what age she was when she came to him. Didn't matter how happy or sad or disturbing the original memory. She was always a lesser. He imagined that if she would speak to him she would tell him it was his fault, his 'gift to her'. But he already knows this.

* * *

36 years, 6 months. Dexter hasn't taken care of himself. His once fit body is a broken mess. The chest pains have come and gone over the years, but seeking medical attention was never part of the plan.

He lies in his little bed and dreams of Debra, as usual. She is laughing at him, swearing, while she drinks her beer. It's his favorite version of Deb, joyful, exuberant, ready to face the world head on so long as her dear brother would stand by her side.

The pain jolts him awake and he groans, clutching at his chest. As he opens his eyes in the darkness he sees Deb. She looks just like his dream. And for the first time she's smiling.

He doesn't know where he's headed, what lays beyond this for him. But that smile means something to him. He's paid some penance, he's done something right finally. No matter what is waiting for him he is ready, he knows he has earned the right to move on.

The pain is dissipating as she comes towards him, she leans close and he can feel the warmth from her body. Her soft cheek presses against his beard as her lips brush against his ear. "I love you, Dex."


End file.
